Long Road Home
by Afardistantshore
Summary: An alternate beginning for Vincent and Catherine. Vincent is kidnapped by the Silks gang and escapes into the northern wilderness. Destined to meet, what events unfold to bring our couple together and what adventures follow.
1. Chapter 1

**Long Road Home**

By afardistantshore

_An alternate beginning set after Vincent is captured by the Silks gang._

Vincent wandered the streets of the lower east side. It was a dangerous part of the city for a tunnel dweller, with only two entrances available in the immediate vicinity. Tonight, however, he welcomed the sense of excitement and anticipation he was feeling from taking the risk. He recited Robert Frost to himself as he walked along: "_I have been one acquainted with the night, I have walked out in rain – and back in rain, I have out-walked the furthest city lights._"

_I surely have tonight! _He thought.

Snippets of his earlier conversation with Father began to replay in his head, Robert Frost relegated temporarily, replaced by strident tones that delivered unwanted advice. "Not again, Vincent," beseeched Father. "How many times must I warn you of the dangers?"

"I am fully aware of the risks I take," Vincent replied as he turned to Father in an agitated manner.

"Are you—_fully_ aware?" demanded Father. "I know the world Above, and it is unforgiving. It ruined my life and I can only imagine what it would do to you."

"Father, please!" implored Vincent, spreading his hands before him. "Try to understand. I must go Above, it draws me, calls to me. If I cannot answer that call then I am in chains here and I do not wish my home to be a prison."

"So you see me as your jailer?" asked Father in a wounded tone, as he raised his eyebrows and cast an uncompromising glare at Vincent. "I'm sorry my concern is so stifling to you."

"You are misunderstanding me," Vincent replied feeling frustrated, as he tried to maintain an even tenor in his voice. "This is my home; your concern is always appreciated ... it's just that I need to make my own decisions about my own life, about where and when I go."

"Well, obviously your mind is made up." Father still sounded hurt, but resigned.

"It's dark tonight, there are clouds," replied Vincent. "I will be perfectly safe."

Vincent moved toward Father, seated at his desk and leaned close to place a kiss on the top of his head. "Try not to worry Father; I'll be home before morning."

Vincent climbed the stairs from Father's library, the turmoil from their conversation weighing heavily on his heart.

...

Five men, members of a local gang, stood shoulder to shoulder as they faced a derelict bar. The dark night was perfect for this nefarious act, if no one saw it, it didn't happen.

"Are you sure about this one, Chris?" asked Tony as he shrugged inside his new suit. Why did it itch so? Maybe he'd left a label on it somewhere. "This ain't really our style."

"Times have changed, big brother, someone pushes you, you push back a little harder." Chris raised his firearm level with his waist in readiness.

"Let's do it. Let's do it," cried Python, bloodlust in his eyes.

Thirty seconds can seem an eternity given the right circumstances and sustained gunfire would definitely count as the right circumstances. Inside the bar, members of a rival gang were learning this truth, although those lying dead had higher truths to concern them.

Their leader, Shake, tried to raise himself from the floor where he lay mortally wounded, when from behind he felt himself being lifted. A dark cloak swirled across his vision as his muddled brain tried to focus. Something hit the floor and rolled toward the center of room, there was a whoosh and for an instant he knew what it felt like to be a bird—his last earthly impression.

Outside the bar, the Silks gang surveyed the damage they'd wrought. Windows had blown out and a section of the wall had collapsed onto the sidewalk. The largest member of the gang, a mentally challenged man named Howie, looked sadly at the scene. He desperately wanted to belong to the gang, to be a part of something, but knew instinctively that this act was wrong.

"Don't you think that's a little overkill?" inquired Tony.

"Let's go see what's left," replied Chris.

Howie trailed the others inside the building.

….

Vincent struggled up from the depths toward consciousness, shaking his head as he tried to focus his eyes. Words were being shouted into his face, but the words were distorted and there was a ringing in his ears. A light was shone into his eyes; it blinded him and magnified his pain. He tried in vain to turn his face away. Muffled words reached his ears …

"Chains secure … those claws … teeth … jungle cat … make money … ring Dino … carny … freak show … do you think he's human … cover his head."

"Meow."

A sack fell in place over his head and he leaned back against the wall for support as dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.

….

Vincent rested uncomfortably; his arms were chained to nearby pipes which made it impossible to sit. His whole body ached from the blast and his arms and legs felt weak and cramped from the hours spent chained. He just wanted to sink to the floor and rest. He muffled a groan that rose in his throat, looking for release. Suddenly he sensed someone approach and he tensed in anticipation.

"Hey, Mister, can you talk?" a nervous voice inquired, lifting the sack from his head. "You know, I bet you can. An' I won't tell no one, honest."

"Yes!" Vincent tried unsuccessfully to focus his eye on the man.

"You know, I, I knew you could, but you gotta shush 'cause Chris and Miss Patricia are in the other room and they'll hear. My name … it's Howie. It's not Pigmeat like Python says."

"I need your help, Howie, set me free," pleaded Vincent.

"I can't. They rang Dino and made a deal," said Howie. "I'm real sorry Mister."

"Hey! Get away from him, what are you doing?" shouted Miss Patricia as she ran into the room.

"I was just checkin' his chains," replied Howie. He jangled the chains to prove his intent and pulled the hood back over Vincent's face.

"Well, just you stay clear, he's sold goods." Patricia pushed Howie away. "Go bring the car around to the back door."

Chris, Tony and Python swaggered into the room.

"It's gonna be a bloody long trip, Chris," insisted Tony.

"Yeah, I know, border and back, twelve hours tops," stated Chris. "But it's a good payday; let's get him in the trunk."

Vincent growled from beneath the blackness of the hood, as desperation welled in him.

"I don't think he wants to go," Python joked sarcastically, as he picked up a crowbar.

"Well we don't always get what we want," said Chris soberly, as he nodded to Python.

Python raised the crow bar high and brought it down on Vincent's head, rendering him unconscious once more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Six months later**

"No, Jenny, it's not a joke." Cathy Chandler chuckled into the phone.

"Backpacking in the wilderness and Cathy Chandler are two concepts that don't belong in the same sentence," replied Jenny Aronson to her best friend.

"I know, but I can adapt," insisted Cathy as she raised her chin defiantly.

"You're more Fifth Avenue than Appalachian Trail," joked Jenny. "You'll need a whole new wardrobe."

"As if I ever needed an excuse to shop," she replied with a chuckle. "Tom and I are hitting the Explorer Store this afternoon."

"Cathy Chandler goes commando," laughed Jenny, "who'd'a thought!"

"Hardly commando, more weekend warrior," Cathy responded lightly. "Without the war, of course."

"So, I can't talk you out of it?" asked Jenny, her voice had taken on a more serious tone.

"No. It's very important to Tom. This new account could be huge for his firm; they want to build eco-friendly luxury resorts on the edges of these wilderness areas. Frankly, if the client wanted Tom to fly to Mars, he'd find a way."

"Then, let him fly the Mars—without you," insisted Jenny. "This whole scenario is not giving me good vibes Cathy."

"Vibes, smibes," joked Cathy. "It'll be fine. It's a bonding thing, Tom and me and Stuart and Tracey from Wilderlux Resorts. We're driving up to the Campton helicopter base on Saturday. They're flying us in to the Sandwich Range Wilderness area at White Mountain and we're hiking out. It'll be fun."

"What does your father say?" asked Jenny.

"He says I could do a lot worse than Tom Gunther and should support him," said Cathy.

"And have," confirmed Jenny. "Gosh, I remember Stephen Bass, the way he was so possessive. But Cathy, Tom has his own ways to manipulate; they may not be as obvious as Stephen's. Please promise me you'll go slowly with him."

"Jen, don't worry. I know Tom's not perfect, who is? But he has ambition."

"What about your ambitions?" needled Jenny. "There's more to you than being Mrs Tom Gunther, homemaker and all round entertainer you know."

"I know that, but I'm so mixed up at present, Jenny," admitted Cathy. "I'm hoping this trip will somehow be a turning point, a new direction, and it might give me better insight into Tom."

"I hope so too," said Jenny. "And stay away from Bigfoot. Did you see the reports in the Sunday paper?"

"Yeah, I did. _'A man-beast spotted in the forests of White Mountain near the river'_," she quoted, remembering the news report. "Probably some poor starved bear trying to catch a fish."

"Well, be careful, it's hunting season up there. We wouldn't want them mistaking Tom for Bigfoot, would we?" quipped Jenny.

"We'll be careful," replied Cathy, a smile playing around her lips. "Now, I'd better go meet Tom and be guided by his superior knowledge of purchasing outdoor gear."

"Yeah, right!" Jenny responded sarcastically before she ended the call.

Cathy's thoughts were in disarray as she rode the elevator down from her office with Tom a short time later. He held her arm firmly, in that proprietary way of his, once again giving her the impression that she was a prisoner being escorted to the dock.

_Familiarity isn't love … complacency is wrong … even Tom deserves someone who truly loves him._

….

Life had narrowed considerably for Vincent. If he'd thought his life Below was contained and suffocating he was wrong. He had lost so much. His home and sanctuary, his family, his sense of community, his books … _his books_, although their words still had the power to bring him solace.

He was alive, and relatively free, and that small mercy he owed to Howie. During the terrible ride in the trunk of the Silk's car, they'd stopped for gas on the highway. Vincent's hands were still chained, making escape impossible; and he'd lost most of the feeling in his arms. He lay in quiet desperation, unable to call for help—who would help him anyway? To Vincent's amazement the trunk opened slowly and although his vision was still blurred he could make out Howie standing there, looking nervous. The others had gone into the store.

"Shush, Mister, shush, don't say nothin'," advised Howie. "This is real wrong what Chris and Tony are gonna do. Here, gimme' your hands … I'll take them chains off."

Vincent raised his numb arms; his whole body still ached from the explosion and subsequent rough handling by the Silks. Howie worked the chains until they fell away.

"Mister, no one's 'round. Just go and I'll shut the trunk." Howie constantly scanned the store as he nervously moved from foot to foot. He glanced at Vincent and pointed across the highway. "Go that way. I saw lots of trees and mountains. You'll be safe there."

Howie then helped Vincent out of the trunk. He felt unsteady and weak and his head hurt, but steel himself he must, if he wanted to survive.

"Thank you, Howie," whispered Vincent, "I owe you everything."

"Just go, Mister, before they come back," encouraged Howie. "Run!"

And so Vincent ran. Across the highway, empty at the late hour, down a side street, around the edge of a town, along sealed roads and then gravel roads until there were no more roads. Still he ran on, until the pain in his chest and legs and head defeated him and he crawled into the undergrowth, pulled his cloak tightly around himself and let go ...

… and six months on, Vincent's life was still in limbo. He worked daily, in survivor mode, to shelter and feed himself and to stay away from people - those who would do him harm and those he would unintentionally frighten. He'd eventually recovered from his injuries, although it had taken several weeks for his vision to settle. He daily considered his options for returning home, but the very reasons he stayed Below in New York were equally valid here. In fact, it was venturing Above that had landed him here in the first place. He was trapped.

He had made a shelter in an overhang below a cliff. The natural contour had afforded him a roof and rear wall. Working with vegetation he'd fashioned further walls and camouflaged them. He could stay dry and relatively free of drafts in the shelter and it wasn't too far from the river that ran through the valley. He could obtain water and wash himself and his clothes at the river and had even made fish traps using reeds from along the river bank.

What scant possessions he had were gathered from vacated campsites. He couldn't believe the treasures people left behind. He had a tin plate and a mug, a pocket knife and even a piece of soap that had been discarded. His most precious find was a full box of matches. Although he could make a campfire without the matches, using the skills he'd learned on expeditions far Below, these little sticks tipped with phosphorous were invaluable during wet weather.

Vincent had spoken to no one since thanking Howie six months before. That is not to say he had not seen people or been seen by them on occasion. As good as his hearing and eyesight were, spring and summer had meant lots of hikers in the area and it was inevitable that he would be seen. He tried to stay hidden by day and hunt and forage by night. Dawn and dusk were the most dangerous times for him.

His diet was monotonous and barely adequate: fish mostly, small animals and what berries and plants he could find that proved edible. Oh, what he would give for some of William's cooking. He dreamt of huge vats of delicious stew, laden with carrots and potatoes, and homemade bread, warm and crusty from the oven. Some mornings he woke to the smell coffee brewing, wafting on the breeze from a distant valley. The aroma conjured memories of home and family, companionship and laughter. It reminded him starkly of all he had lost and made him feel so alone.

He ate enough to survive, but not to thrive, and he wondered how much longer he could go on this way. The colder weather had arrived and there'd already been occasional flurries of snow and days when he was never warm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The helicopter pilot pointed to an open space above the tree line. "That's the drop zone," he shouted to his passengers.

Cathy sat nervously in her seat behind the pilot, glancing out at the terrain. She had never seen such wild country and could not believe what she was about to do. How had she let Tom talk her into this? Tom the negotiator, the closer, the manipulator – she hadn't stood a chance.

_Suck it up Chandler. Just get through this._

The plan was to land on the mountain and over the course of five days hike down to the river and follow it to the trailhead where they would be picked up. They carried all the food and gear they needed and the idea was to take their time and enjoy their surroundings.

Stuart and Tracey seemed like a nice enough couple. Cathy was initially unsure, but Tom seemed enamored with them. "Charmed" and "smitten" kept popping into Cathy's head, she couldn't fathom the attraction, this was supposed to be about business and there wasn't much Tom put before money.

The helicopter touched down on the mountainside. Stuart jumped out and unloaded the gear as they passed it to him. Tom climbed down next and turned to assist Tracey. That left Stuart to help Cathy. There was a lot happening, rotors were whirring overhead and the noise was deafening, but the way Stuart pushed himself against her when she landed on the ground made Cathy feel uncomfortable. He then stroked her arm before leading her out of range of the helicopter.

They crouched down and watched as the helicopter lifted off. With a last wave from the pilot the machine banked and headed back to town. Cathy wished she was still on it.

"Ok, folks," said Stuart as he hoisted his pack, "let's get this show on the road."

"Wasn't the scenery amazing from the air?" remarked Tracey rhetorically, as she twirled in a circle, her arms wide. "This is such spectacular country, so rugged and primal; can't you just feel it seeping into your very being?"

Tom looked across at Tracey with wide eager eyes. "I'm really looking forward to this—hike." Then he turned toward Cathy. "Let me help you with your backpack, honey."

Once they were all loaded up with the gear they headed off along the ridge which eventually led them to the start of their descent. Tonight would be spent in the tents they'd brought with them and hopefully by tomorrow night they would reach one of the wilderness cabins interspersed throughout the park.

The scenery was amazing and gradually Cathy relaxed and pushed her misgivings to the back of her mind. It would certainly be an adventure to tell Jenny about next week. They stopped for lunch on a ledge that afforded them an amazing view of the whole area. The river looked like a thin ribbon snaking far below and fire trails could be seen quite clearly. There were shear escarpments and a blue haze hanging over the distant mountains. Clouds were forming in the distance.

After lunch the descent became more serious and required all their concentration. Their surroundings were so beautiful and unspoiled and Cathy could see the attraction, but days of hiking with a heavy pack wasn't really her thing.

Camp that night was in a small clearing amongst the tall pine trees they'd finally reached. It was so good to take off the backpack. What she wouldn't give for a back rub right now, she thought as she sat heavily on her pack. She closed her eyes and rolled her shoulders and, as if her mind had been read, hands touched her shoulders and kneaded gently.

Cathy opened her eyes expecting to see Tom's hands and was surprised when she realized it was Tracey behind her.

"You're so knotted up Cath," said Tracey softly. "Just relax. I rub Stuart's back all the time."

"Thanks, Tracey," replied Cathy. "That does feel good."

"The first day out is always the hardest," explained Tracey as she continued to gently knead Cathy's shoulders. "Tomorrow we won't have as many hills."

"Have you done this hike before?" asked Cathy.

"About this same time last year, for our anniversary," said Tracey. "We can't do it as much as we'd like, only when we find like minded people."

_Well, that counts me out. _Cathy thought. "Tom's certainly surprised me with his interest," Cathy admitted. "It's not something he's ever spoken about."

"He told Stuart he's keen and knew he could count on you," replied Tracey.

Cathy looked across at Tom who looked back with an odd, slightly calculating look on his face.

"Well, Tom," said Stuart, "time for us to fend for the women folk and collect some firewood."

"I suppose we should go together," answered Tom a little nervously. "Hope we don't run into a bear."

"If we do, just don't run," advised Stuart. "That'll set off the hunting instinct and it'll take you down in a flash."

"Let's just hurry while it's still light," said Tom as he headed into the trees. Stuart followed, slapping him on the back in a companionable way.

The men soon returned with armloads of tinder and then brought back a few well-seasoned logs which would keep the fire burning most of the night. Cathy and Tracey started unpacking what they would need for dinner while the men erected the tent. Tent? One tent? Cathy was certain Tom had said separate tents.

_Maybe I wasn't listening._

For dinner they cooked rice using some of their water supply. They had enough until they reached the river where they could refill their containers. To the rice they added dried meat, sun-dried tomatoes and a few spices. It was simple fare, nutritious and wholesome. To add to the meal, Tom withdrew a bottle of red wine from his pack and plastic wine glasses. Trust Tom not to go without the little luxuries of life. Now _this_ was the Tom she knew.

They sat around the camp fire as they enjoyed their meal, sipping on the wine and laughing as they recounted amusing stories and discussed the luxury resorts Stuart had planned. It was outside of Tom's normal developments, but he knew the clientele Stuart was aiming for: in fact Tom was the clientele, and he knew what he would want in such a resort, so in that way he was the perfect partner for Stuart.

They talked about Tracey's experience as an interior designer and how she'd manage the team in charge of the décor. If this first resort was successful, it could mean a whole chain of similar eco-friendly resorts catering to every whim of the guests, no expense spared.

Cathy felt like an after-thought in the conversation, as if what she said didn't matter. After she was spoken over for the third time she stopped speaking at all.

She sat quietly and contemplated how she had ended up with Tom Gunther—and in the middle of a forest. Cathy's father had handed her Tom's account to manage, partly to try and offer her more of a challenge at work and partly because he thought Tom might be good for her. Cathy knew she'd given her father cause to believe she wasn't happy in her professional life and he was trying to help. She supposed she'd been flattered by Tom's attention at first, but the longer she knew him the more she didn't understand him. They weren't soul mates, but they were good in bed, he had quite adventurous tastes and she accommodated him.

_I "accommodate" him. What does that make me?_

The fire had died down and the embers were glowing red. Tom emptied the last of the wine into their glasses, lifted his glass high and smiled at Stuart and Tracey. "I propose a toast," he began. "Here's to our new venture and to closer ties, starting tonight."

"Here, here," responded Stuart as he clinked his plastic glass against Tracey's and Tom's and then he rose to walk around the fire and touched his glass to Cathy's as he looked deep into her eyes.

Cathy swallowed the wine in one gulp.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Earlier in the day Vincent had seen a helicopter fly over his refuge and had wondered about the life of people who could afford this kind of transport. He'd seen helicopters before, in books, and over the last six months flying in the distance. This was the closest that one had flown near him and he'd found it to be a wondrous sight. Not ten minutes later he'd seen the helicopter once again, headed back the way it had come.

He knew the direction the helicopter was headed. It was the way he had come when he'd first entered this wilderness. Maybe he should start to head in that direction. Maybe he could talk to someone before they saw him and ask them for help. Maybe they would listen. Maybe they wouldn't scream. So many maybes, but he felt increasingly desperate as the days passed and the winter approached. He knew he'd lost a lot of weight and he didn't know how much more fish he could stomach. His will to live was being tested by the hardship and isolation, the cold and the rain.

Father had surely given up on him by now and this thought tormented Vincent, particularly in light of their final conversation. Father had been right. On that particular night the world had been a dangerous place, for him as well as the men killed in that lower eastside bar. There were good and bad people everywhere, Above and Below. Howie had been there that night too, with his simple wisdom and his courage to do the right thing. Vincent often wondered what had happened at the border when the Silks had found the trunk empty. Had Howie confessed? Did they think he'd escaped on his own? He'd probably never know, and it would not be wise to look for the answers.

It was dark and time to search for food. He had several fish stored in the cool stream near his shelter, but he would need them for tomorrow. He could smell rain in the air and looked up as the moon disappeared momentarily behind skittish clouds.

"'… _and further still at an unearthly height, one luminary clock against the sky, proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right,'_" Vincent quoted aloud from one of his favorite poems by Robert Frost. His voice sounded strange in his ears and felt tight in his throat from lack of use. Thinking of poetry he pondered how he missed the children, teaching them, and being surprised by their antics, their happy, innocent faces. A tear slid down his cheek as he continued to watch the moon dance with the clouds. It was large and full tonight, just as it had been that night so long ago when his brother Devin had taken him into Central Park to see it in its glory.

Sighing, Vincent lifted the hood of his cloak in place and left his camp, making his way slowly along the base of the cliff. A misty drizzle started to fall.

….

"Stuart and I will go ahead and get started," announced Tracey, taking Stuart's offered hand and heading toward the tent.

"Come in whenever you're ready," said Stuart as they ambled away, arm in arm.

Cathy watched the couple as entered the tent. She jumped up and moved to the far side of the clearing and motioned Tom to accompany her.

"What the hell's going on, Tom?" whispered Cathy harshly.

"Now, Cathy, calm down." Tom attempted to take her by the arm, but she pulled away.

"I am not feeling calm and I'm not comfortable about the sleeping arrangements."

"Come on, you're over-reacting." He used even tones to try and placate her.

"How am I over-reacting? I've only known these people for five minutes." She was furious.

"Cathy. Stuart and Tracey have become very important to me."

"Maybe so, but why don't we have our own tent?"

Tom looked slightly uncomfortable and squirmed a little where he stood. "I suppose I should have explained more clearly before we left. I just hoped you would like them and it would all be easy."

"What are you talking about?" Hands on hips, Cathy glared at Tom.

"Stuart and Tracey are … "swingers," confessed Tom. At least he had the decency to blush.

Cathy was stunned. "You mean you expect me to go in that tent with virtual strangers and have group sex?"

"Come on Cathy, I thought I could count on you."

Tom had used that same statement on several previous occasions to make her acquiesce to his plans. It had become a red flag to Cathy's anger.

"You have gone too far this time, Tom. What won't you do to climb up the corporate ladder?"

"It'll be fun," he promised as he tried to take hold of her arm again. "Just relax and let yourself enjoy it. You're so uptight these days."

Cathy moved out of range of his touch. "Are you insane? Have you done this with them before?"

"Once," he admitted and raised a brow in defiance, "but we really need a fourth."

"You make it sound like a rubber of Bridge," replied Cathy, disgusted.

"Let's go on in," he commanded. "Don't be a disappointment to me."

"Well, Tom, disappointment goes both ways."

"What are you saying, Cathy?"

"That you can go and _swing_ without me. I'm sure if you put your mind to it you can satisfy them both." She knew this kind of thing happened, but she was not going to be a part of it.

"Cathy, don't embarrass me by refusing." His tone had become clipped and arrogant.

"I cannot believe your gall. We're finished, Tom, and when I tell Dad what's happened you'll be looking for a new law firm," she threatened.

Cathy strode back to the campsite and grabbed her small pack from where it was resting by a log.

"Where do you think you're going?" demanded Tom, angrily.

"Away from you." She grabbed her torch out of the pack and headed off into the trees.

"I'm not coming after you, Cathy," Tom called to her retreating back. "There could be bears."

She turned and shone the torch in his face, causing him to flinch. "The only predator I see around here is you."

Fueled by anger and disappointment she started to run away from the clearing, tears of hurt and humiliation burning in her eyes.

_The temerity! … I'm such a fool … can't believe I trusted him … arrogant, self-centered, egotistical, empire-building, self-serving narcissist … _she fumed as she ran. She slowed a little when she reached more rugged terrain, swiping the tears from her face.

After an hour of travel the rain had started and she realized that the beam from her flashlight was starting to dim.

_Think Chandler. _

She had left in such a rush that she hadn't taken her rain gear, which was still sitting in her main pack. She knew she shouldn't have left the group, no matter how upset she was. Her survival depended on them. She had not, however, been in a rational state of mind and every instinct had screamed for her to get away. Her common sense had begun to resurface now, even though her anger remained, but it wouldn't help her to be lost in this wilderness. She needed to find some shelter and wait for daylight when she could reassess her situation. She felt increasingly cold as the rain penetrated her clothing.

Realizing she was too close to a cliff edge she began making her way back toward the forest. She thought she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye and stopped instantly, turned off her flashlight and listened. She could hear a snuffling noise in the undergrowth and as her eyes adjusted to the darkness she dimly made out the shape of an animal. A bear!

_Oh God, please no …_

Ever so slowly she worked her feet backwards, keeping watch on the bear. Had it seen her? She turned carefully, tried to be totally silent, and increased her speed. A loud bellow issued from the bear and Cathy could take no more. She ran. She knew it was wrong, but she was terrified. Soon she was back near the cliff edge with nowhere to go. She lowered herself to her stomach and moved over the edge, clinging tightly to vegetation growing there. The rain was falling heavier now and her eyes were half blinded by it.

From nowhere, a figure appeared out of the tree line. It was wearing a long cloak and turned toward the bear, circling it and emitting a low growl. Suddenly the bear lunged at the figure, who caught it and rolled with it to the ground. They tumbled over and over, ever closer to where Cathy clung to the edge of the cliff.

The fight went on; bellows and roars filled the night. Cathy lost her grip and started to slip further down the side of the mountain. She didn't know how far it was to the bottom and now she'd started to fall in earnest, her momentum increased with every foot. Suddenly she saw the bear fall past her. The other creature must have managed to hurl it over the edge. A jutting branch gashed her face as her descent continued. She tried desperately to slow her progress, but to no avail. She had slid 50 feet when her progress was halted abruptly by a small ledge. She felt sudden pain in her ankle then her head slammed into a rock after which she lost consciousness and slumped precariously on the rim. Cathy lay still - damaged, lost, cold and wet in the dark night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Vincent looked over the edge of the cliff and watched the bear fall. With his night vision he could see exactly where it had landed. He glanced further to the right and searched until he found what he was looking for. The woman lay motionless on a small ledge. He must climb down and help her.

The fight with the bear had left him exhausted. His stamina had been tested more in the last five minutes than in the past six months. His chest heaved as he tried to settle his ragged breathing. Fortunately it had been a juvenile bear; if it had been full-grown there could have been a very different outcome.

He let the thought go as he focused on helping the woman. She didn't deserve to die on that ledge when he could help. The last time his compassion had surfaced and he'd tried to help the men who'd been shot in the bar, his life had taken a dramatic turn for the worse.

He eased his aching body over the edge and worked his way carefully down the steep cliff side. He knew this area quite well as along the base of this cliff was the overhang where he was living. He jumped the last few feet to land on the ledge and knelt beside the woman. Her hair was in disarray and her face was covered in grime and blood. Despite this he could see her beauty. He gently rested a finger against her neck and felt the strong beat of her pulse.

Carefully, trying not to hurt her further, he lifted her limp body onto his shoulder and climbed the remaining 20 feet to the valley floor. Once on flatter ground he cradled her in his arms and headed on weary feet back to his shelter.

She was so cold, too cold, and a blue tinge rimmed her lips. Vincent placed her on the mat of vegetation he used as a bed and set about making a fire. He glanced across at the woman periodically and wondered if he were in the midst of a dream; would she disappear like a wisp of curled smoke to leave him alone once more?

The fire had ignited the tinder and Vincent placed a larger log on top. He moved back to the woman and wiped the grime from her face with the edge of his cloak. An angel! But she was so cold. He had to take off her wet clothes and get her dry or she would die. He worked her arms out of her jacket and shirt and removed her boots. Feeling like he was violating her he steeled himself to lower the zip on her jeans and pull the wet pants down her legs, leaving only her undergarments. He draped the wet clothes around his shelter where they would eventually dry with the heat from the fire.

Placing his cloak on the ground, Vincent lifted the woman and softly laid her on it and wrapped her in its folds. Tired himself from all that had transpired, Vincent lay on his mat and drew the woman close against his body to give her what warmth he could. With the fire ablaze he could do no more; the rest was in God's hands. He wrapped his arms around her slender frame and whispered, "Be well," before he let sleep take him.

….

Catherine slowly began to regain consciousness. She was aware of pain in her ankle and her head, however, she was so incredibly warm and comfortable she felt she could lie here and not move, with her eyes closed, forever. Gradually the process of ordering her thoughts began to intrude upon this hazy state: helicopter, camping, Tom, fight, bear, cliff …

_Where am I?_

Slowly, she forced open her eyes and focused on the remains of a nearby camp fire. She realized an arm was wrapped around her and, on probing beneath the covers, she discovered that she had nothing on except her underwear. Fear, sudden and unquenchable, filled her and she tried to move, to escape this strange situation.

As if by magic the arm withdrew from its position pinning her in place and Catherine felt the body behind her move quickly away. Before she had time to react her ears were filled with a voice of such fervent, heartfelt concern, its tone low and husky …

"Don't be afraid. Please—don't be afraid."

Catherine sat up and turned in the direction of the voice. What she saw confused her. Why had he hidden himself? A large man had moved into the recess created by the overhang. His back was to her and he had the most amazing shock of hair resting on his shoulders. She could see the color in the gloom, a golden hue and his clothes appeared to be of most unusual design and workmanship.

"What happened? Where am I?" asked Catherine, as she tried to push her fear away.

"You fell—from the cliff," he explained in earnest tones. "I brought you here."

"You saved me—the bear," she stated, still attempting to clarify events in her mind.

"Yes."

"Will you come out so I can thank you?"

Silence.

"Please come out," she almost pleaded this time.

"I don't want to frighten you," he said quietly. "My appearance ..."

"I'm not afraid."

"You will be." The voice in the gloom was edged with inevitable regret.

Catherine suddenly realized she truly was not afraid, and hoped further conversation might help ease his reticence."Will you tell me your name?" she asked. "I'd like to know the name of the man who saved my life."

"Vincent." He spoke his name as if he had just remembered who he was.

"Vincent, I'm Catherine."

"Catherine," he repeated, sounding three syllables in an almost lyrical rendition, as if it were a mantra that might somehow save him by its mere utterance.

"Please come closer, Vincent, I'm not frightened," she begged him.

So slowly, as if all time around them had ceased, Vincent backed out of the recess and turned to face Catherine. He had closed his eyes, unwilling to witness her reaction, her rejection.

Catherine looked, with surprise upon his countenance and her heart melted at the look of pain it bore. He looked as if he was awaiting sentence, and she instantly recognized that she was the judge.

"Open your eyes Vincent," she requested in a soft tone. "Everything is all right."

He opened his eyes and beheld his angel's face, animated for the first time. Green eyes smiled up at him and she held out an arm from the confines of his cloak, encouraging him nearer.

"Sit with me," said Catherine, as she shuffled backward on the mat.

Hesitantly, Vincent came nearer and cautiously settled himself on the end of the mat.

Catherine looked with anticipation into his eyes and was jolted to her core by the cerulean blue she found there. She could almost see his soul displayed in his eyes, sense it reaching out and into hers. She felt as if she were falling.

"Ahhhh…," she uttered as dizziness overwhelmed her.

"Catherine." Vincent moved quickly to steady her.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she said, her face pressed against the roughness of his shirt.

"You're not well. You hit your head when you fell." He reminded her.

"It does hurt," she agreed.

"You may have concussion. Just rest yourself against me for a moment." He settled himself more comfortably and she leaned back into him.

Catherine gradually regained her composure and surveyed the camp, noting her clothes hung about the place. "My clothes?"

"You were so cold, I had to remove your wet clothes," he said, sounding embarrassed. "I did not mean any disrespect."

She glanced around at him and saw a blush had crept across his face. "This wrap?" She inquired as she touched the patched material.

"It is my cloak," he affirmed.

What strange words. What a formal, old-fashioned way he expressed himself. Her curiosity was thoroughly piqued.

"Vincent, do you—live here?" asked Catherine, realizing that this setting seemed wrong for the educated man he obviously was.

"I live here … but this is not my home."

"Then why are you here?"

She felt his chest heave where she rested against him and then he let out a slow and ragged breath. "I was kidnapped. After my escape I made my way to this spot," he explained. "It is—barely adequate."

"Vincent, where is your home?"

"It is a secret place, separate from this world. The safety of many depends on it remaining hidden."

"Will you tell me about it? I'll keep your secret, you can trust me," promised Catherine.

"I know. I knew that when you accepted me."

"Will you tell me?" she asked once more.

"Yes."

With Catherine nestled against him, in the wilderness of the forest, and after six months of loneliness, deprivation and despair, Vincent opened his heart and trusted this woman with his story, his life – knew it was safe with her. He told of his home below New York City in the system of tunnels that exists there, long forgotten by most of those who live Above. He spoke of his family and friends, Father and Mary, Mouse, Jamie, Pascal, Winslow and William, everyone who had surely given up on his return. He explained their way of life, a utopian ethos built on respect for society and self, about the children, and the wonderful education they provided for them in the only sanctuary many had ever known.

Catherine reached down and shyly touched the back of one furred hand where it rested against his leg. The softness her fingers encountered there surprised her. She had seen his sharp nails before, but now he had curled them into his palm, tucking his thumb inside also, either embarrassed or ashamed - she hadn't decided which yet.

"Are there others—like you?"

"No, Catherine. There is only me." His head lowered and she felt his hair brush softly across her cheek as it fell forward.

Vincent described to Catherine how he had been found on the coldest night of the year outside St Vincent's Hospital. He recited the tale as he knew it—the story of his origin, a story that explained his beginnings, partially, leaving out the pertinent parts, the facts he craved, regarding who, how and why he existed.

Coming out of his reverie, Vincent inquired, "Catherine, were you alone in the forest? Have you companions who will miss you?"

Landing squarely back in her own reality, Catherine replied, "Companions, yes, but as to whether they'll miss me or not, I'm unconvinced."

"What do you mean?" Vincent was confused by this contrary statement.

"We flew in yesterday morning by helicopter," she started.

"I saw it fly over," he interrupted her, excited for a moment. "It was a magnificent sight."

"We were supposed to hike and camp for five days before we meet our scheduled transport at the trailhead for a lift back to Campton. Something—happened yesterday that changed the dynamic of our group—something that made it impossible for me to continue with them. That's why I was on my own when you found me."

"Won't they be concerned for your welfare?"

"They may be, but I think it will serve them right to agonize for a few days." Catherine stated, a burning anger for Tom still present.

Vincent could sense the anger that emanated from her. "Catherine, should I approach them?"

"No, Vincent, you should not." She was adamant. Her head suddenly started to throb. "Please, I don't want to think about them, it makes my head hurt."

Vincent raised his hand and gently stroked her hair back on her forehead and repeated the soothing gesture until Catherine fell into a light doze. He eased her down to rest on the mat once more and tucked his cloak snuggly around her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Vincent was busy while Catherine slept. He returned to the clearing at the top of the cliff and found a small pack that Catherine must have dropped the previous night.

He climbed down the cliff again and located the bear he'd fought with. Using the pocket knife he'd found he worked for some time to cut a piece of meat from the bear's rump. It was grim but necessary work; the survival of two now depended on his ability to find sustenance. When he was finished he dragged the bear into the undergrowth and covered it as best he could.

He returned to his camp via a small fresh water spring that seeped out of the cliff. After drinking of the crystal clear water he filled the tin mug to the brim and carried it carefully back to camp for Catherine.

Next he dug a hole directly beside the campfire and filled it with hot rocks and embers. He placed the piece of bear meat on top, more embers followed and then hot earth filled in the hole. He hoped the make-shift oven would do the job. Vincent had once read about this technique in an encyclopedia, it was a method used by the Maori people of New Zealand to celebrate special occasions and if finding Catherine wasn't a special occasion he didn't know what was. Next he set a new fire on top of his "oven" and retrieved the fish he had stored at the river. He poked a stick inside each fish and stuck them into the ground at the edge of the fire, close enough to cook but not burn.

Domestic tasks completed, Vincent rested on the far side of the fire and watched Catherine sleep. He wondered for the hundredth time what benevolent god had sent her to him. He felt that rescue might finally be possible, that maybe he would not have to face the hardship of winter in this harsh and lonely place.

Catherine woke shortly after and Vincent was instantly struck by feelings he could sense inside, which were not his own. He'd always had empathic connections with people, usually his family in the tunnels; he knew when they were upset or worried. Never before had his gift manifested itself with someone he'd only just met.

"You are feeling better," he stated from across the campfire.

"Yes, I am," Catherine replied. "My head certainly doesn't hurt as much."

"The power of a healing sleep!" he murmured.

"Indeed."

"Are you thirsty?" asked Vincent

"Yes, and those fish smell wonderful."

Vincent retrieved the mug of water and crouched beside Catherine as she sat herself up, wincing from the pain in her ankle.

"Are you hurt?" inquired Vincent.

"My left ankle. I twisted it when I fell."

Vincent handed her the water and went to kneel at her feet. Gently, so as not to cause her unnecessary pain, he lifted her ankle and peeled off her sock. With her heel resting in his right hand, he gently probed her ankle. There was some swelling and a bruised area was visible.

"I do not think it is broken," he concluded after his inspection.

"If only I had my pack, there's a first aid kit in it," lamented Catherine.

"You do. I went back to the clearing this morning and found it." Vincent placed her foot on the mat and went to collect her pack.

It only took Catherine a moment to dig to the bottom and locate the first aid kit and the bandage contained therein. She looked up and met his eyes as she handed him the bandage. When their hands touched, Vincent felt a shiver pass through him. He lowered his gaze once more.

"Will you bind my ankle for me?" she asked and suddenly felt shy.

"Yes." Vincent resumed his position at her feet and rested her ankle on his leg. With gentle, firm movements he worked the bandage in a figure eight around her ankle and foot and tucked the end in. Next he eased her sock back in place.

"That feels better already. I can tell you've done that before."

"Yes. My father is a doctor. I have assisted him on occasion."

"You must miss your home very much," said Catherine, her eyes filled with emotion.

Vincent nodded in ascent and, trying to push down the welling sadness, he rested her foot back on the mat.

"The fish is cooked," he said changing the subject, "but you might prefer to dress first."

"I think that's probably a good idea, although this cloak is magically warm."

Vincent brought her jeans and tops to her, picked up the now empty mug and excused himself on the pretext of an errand to bring more water while she dressed.

Lunch was a quiet affair, each focused on their own thoughts.

"This fish tastes wonderful," said Catherine, finally breaking the silence.

"I'm afraid, after six months, that I've lost my appetite for fish," responded Vincent.

"I can see why that would happen." Catherine nodded her head in understanding.

"I am, however, grateful for the sustenance it provides." Vincent realized he sounded as though he was complaining. "_Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance_," quoted Vincent.

"Who said that?" asked Catherine.

"The classical Roman poet, Virgil," Vincent informed her.

"Do you think Virgil would have frowned on chocolate to help with the "endurance" part?" She looked at Vincent with a twinkle in her eyes.

"Ah, the true food of the gods," responded Vincent smiling, but when he realized he'd exposed his canines, he closed his mouth and turned away, embarrassed.

Catherine searched in her pack and withdrew a bar of chocolate. "Vincent, please share this with me." She un-wrapped the chocolate and, breaking it, handed Vincent the larger piece.

"This is too much," he said as he tried to hand it back.

"Nope, that's all yours. I have more in my pack," she said. "I'm a bit of a chocoholic."

Catherine started eating her chocolate and, accepting his gift, Vincent placed a small piece in his mouth. He let it melt and coat his tongue as he savored its every aspect. The smooth texture silken against his tongue, the sweet taste, creamy and full, the aroma released by the warmth of his mouth. He slipped in a second piece and sat with eyes closed in pure enjoyment.

"You like?" asked Catherine, an eyebrow raised.

"_Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by chocolate_," misquoted Vincent, opening his eyes again as he tilted his head slightly to the left, an amused look on his face.

"That's hilarious Vincent, you're one of a kind," she said, referring to his sense of humor. She suddenly realized it might have been offensive to him.

"That I am, Catherine," he replied, casting a wry glance in her direction.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

During the afternoon Vincent helped Catherine put her boots on and supported her to an area she could use as a bathroom and then showed her where the river was. Catherine could not walk far with her sprained ankle and on the return journey Vincent lifted her into his arms and carried her. It was debatable who enjoyed it more.

Vincent didn't normally leave his camp during daylight hours, fearing discovery. Regularly over the last month he'd heard rifle fire echo around the valley and he particularly did not wish to be seen anywhere near a hunter. During his short excursion with Catherine he'd been on high alert, listening to everything, as he constantly monitored the level of threat. It was a relief to return to camp.

That evening Vincent removed the earth covering his improvised oven and was gratified by the aroma that greeted his nostrils. Breaking open the hunk of meat he passed some to Catherine. It was burnt on the outside but inside it was tender and tasty from the long, slow cooking.

"Um, the fish was good, Vincent, but this is delicious," said Catherine.

"It makes a welcome change." Vincent agreed as he turned away to eat.

"Will you please stop doing that?" commanded Catherine.

"Doing what, Catherine?" he asked, although he knew what she was referring to.

"Turning away, when you eat. Don't be embarrassed in front of me."

"I did not wish to—distress you."

"You don't distress my, Vincent. In fact, you're one of the least distressing people I've ever met."

Vincent blushed and lowered his head. "You are kind, Catherine."

"Only truthful. I work in a corporate law firm and I see people scheming against each other day in and day out. Everybody's after what they can get, how much money they can make, how they can come out on top. But you, you come from a world where people genuinely care for each other, you work together to help bring out the best in everyone. You have proved yourself to be a protector and a gentleman."

"I am not a gentleman." Vincent felt decidedly uncomfortable with her assessment of him.

"You are, Vincent, in every sense of the word, you are a gentle _man_."

"I don't even know if I am a man," revealed Vincent. He looked down at his hands and continued. "These hands are not gentle."

"Your hands saved my life." Catherine hobbled across to Vincent and sat beside him.

"I am only glad that I was there." A sudden image entered his head of Catherine lying dead, mauled by the bear. A cold shiver ran through him and he shook his head to clear it.

They sat together for the rest of their meal, which included another piece of chocolate for dessert.

Vincent tilted his head back and gazed up into the night sky.

"The stars look so clear, so intense in this dark wilderness," he remarked. "In the city the stars must compete with manmade lights."

Catherine looked up and felt swallowed by the cosmos. "Is that Cassiopeia?" She pointed overhead at a cluster of stars.

"Yes, and that's Perseus just below it," he replied. "Perseus was the son of Zeus and in legend he cut off the head of the Medusa."

Catherine was again amazed by Vincent's knowledge and his ability to impart information so naturally.

"I sit here night after night under this mantel of heaven," he continued. "I watch the constellations shift as the seasons progress and it makes me feel so infinitesimally small, so insignificant."

"You are not insignificant," said Catherine earnestly, and continued. "Vincent?"

"Yes."

"Why were you kidnapped?" She instantly felt his body tense beside her.

"I was kidnapped because I was trying to help some wounded men and was caught in an explosion." He let out a slow deliberate breath and then continued. "But the _reason_ I was kidnapped was because of my appearance. They thought they could make money by selling me."

"Selling you!" She was aghast.

"To a circus," he admitted in a flat tone. "A—freak show."

"No!" Catherine felt stunned by this revelation. "I'm so sorry."

"It was not your doing."

"I'm still sorry," she said. "Man's inhumanity never ceases to amaze me."

"There is good and bad everywhere. It was a member of the group that kidnapped me who helped me escape," he informed her.

"Vincent, I can get you home." An idea of how to accomplish it started to form in her mind.

"Home—what a wonderful word." He could sense excitement rising through her, felt it through this Bond he had developed so quickly with her.

"If I meet the transport in four days time I can go into Campton and hire a vehicle and come back for you."

"You would do that for me?" Vincent asked, incredulous.

"Are you kidding, after all you've done for me?" She twisted on the log to look into his pure blue eyes. "I would do anything for you."

Their eyes locked and held for a long moment until they broke the contact simultaneously, feeling overpowered by the intensity of their feelings.

Silence ensued as they gazed into the campfire and listened as its hissed and crackled. Suddenly, Catherine slipped her hand under Vincent's, where it rested against his leg. Vincent's heart pounded in his chest.

When it was time to retire for the night Vincent gave Catherine his cloak which she refused, unless he would share it. The air had become icy and with Vincent's loss of body fat he was feeling the cold too. Eventually they settled, back to back on the mat, wrapped snugly in the cloak. They each gained comfort and warmth from the other's presence.

Sometime during the night Catherine stirred and realized that Vincent had turned in his sleep. She was now spooned against him, encircled by his warm arms, held close. She smiled to herself as she slipped back into her dreams.

….

Two more days passed, filled with simple, yet necessary tasks to ensure their continued survival. They ate the rest of the cooked bear meat along with more fish that Vincent caught at the river, some trail mix from Catherine's supplies and, of course, the precious supply of chocolate.

On the day they had planned to leave for the trailhead, Catherine woke and knew instantly that she was alone. Confused and worried she set off in search of Vincent when he didn't return. Her ankle was much improved and with her boot giving added support she could nearly walk normally. She made her way to the river, thinking he might have gone there to catch fish. On rounding the last bend she was stopped in her tracks by what she saw.

Vincent stood, waist deep in the river, naked and glorious in the rays from the recently risen sun. She knew she should leave, immediately, but was unable to drag her eyes away. His physique was obviously muscular, but lean and underweight, the bones of his spine were clearly visible, the result of semi-starvation. Soft fur covered his arms and back and she could only imagine it continued under the water. His hair fell wet and long over his shoulders. He was magnificent. Catherine thought he was about the turn but changed his mind; she forced herself to retreat in order to save them both from embarrassment.

_Get a grip, Chandler, steady on! _

She hurried back to camp as quickly as her ankle would allow. On arrival she concentrated on calming her breathing, and didn't think it was exertion from the walk that kept her pulse racing. She tried, unsuccessfully, to banish a sudden image that filled her mind. She imagined herself rubbing her hands up Vincent's back, across his wide shoulders and down his arms. Her whole body felt like it were about to ignite.

When Vincent finally returned, his hair was still hanging in wet tendrils, and neither he nor Catherine said a word or made eye contact.

_He knows I saw him. How did he know I was there?_

Finally, Vincent broke the silence. "I have soap, if you would like to visit the river."

"I apologize, Vincent," she rushed to confess. "I didn't mean to spy on you."

"I know, I felt your concern and knew you would come," he told her.

"What do you mean you _felt_ my concern?" She asked him, perplexed.

"Since the beginning—I have sensed your emotions. When you're happy or sad I feel it here." He placed his open hand against his chest. "And when you're angry or worried I feel that even more strongly."

"That is amazing," exclaimed Catherine, struggling with the concept.

"Father calls it my "gift," however I have never felt it so keenly before," admitted Vincent, blushing. "Also I heard your approach. If you would like a wash before we leave I can stay out of sight and listen for any danger."

"Yes, I'd like that," she admitted. "Is the water very cold?"

"I think "bracing" describes it best." He smiled, showing his teeth once more and this time he didn't try to hide them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Two days of travel followed. It was a rugged hike, as they endeavored to stay clear of the more popular trails. Twice Vincent pulled Catherine off the trail when hikers approached. She knew this was draining for him, constantly monitoring his surroundings, locating water and food to supplement the meager remains of the trail mix and chocolate, not to mention finding campsites which wouldn't be stumbled upon by others.

Catherine's favorite time was snuggling under the cloak with Vincent each night. They always started back to back but every morning they were spooned together. She was going to miss that once they returned to the city.

The day to meet the pre-arranged transport finally arrived. A vehicle was due at 10:00am and Catherine knew she would have to walk the last stretch alone. The plan was for her to return early afternoon with a rented vehicle and meet Vincent.

The thought of being separated from him, even for a short time, filled her with anguish. The thought of confronting Tom, Tracey and Stuart, however, filled her with dread. They had obviously continued with their holiday, even with her missing. If they had hurried back for help she would have been aware of helicopters in the air searching for her.

The time inevitably arrived when separation was upon them.

Vincent stood dejected. "Be well, Catherine," he said softly.

"I'm coming back, Vincent," she assured him. "I'll just be a couple of hours."

"I've been living such a nightmare," he declared as he shook his head slightly. "I cannot contemplate a happy ending."

"You deserve a happy ending." She looked at him with tears running down her cheeks. "How can I thank you, for everything?"

"You don't have to thank me."

"I do," she said and threw herself into his arms, holding tightly around his waist. After hugging him she stood on tiptoe and kissed him softly on the lips. She felt his arms pull her near. For a moment neither spoke, content to savor the closeness.

"Go now, Catherine." He released her with obvious regret.

"… _I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep,"_ she recited a poem she remembered from college.

"… _and miles to go before I sleep."_ He finished the last line for her.

Catherine started up the track and turned back to wave before she was hidden by the bend. Vincent stood lonely and forlorn, one arm raised.

"I'll be back soon, please believe that," she whispered her words into the autumn breeze.

….

And so it eventuated that Catherine was seated quietly at the rendezvous point when she heard Tom, Stuart and Tracey approach. When they came into view she could see their surprise at her presence.

"So, you're still alive," remarked Tom. "I've been so worried."

"No thanks to you," she responded and backed away when he tried to kiss her. "Don't touch me."

Stuart and Tracey had stopped a short distance away and had the good grace to look uncomfortable.

"It's all been a misunderstanding, Cathy," continued Tom, undeterred. "You'll see things rationally once we're back in New York."

"Let's get one thing straight," hissed Catherine. "I am only here for a lift to town. We are over, for now and for always, and don't ever think otherwise."

"Be reasonable, Cathy." He spoke to her as if she was a wayward child.

Catherine shook her head slowly. What had she ever seen in this man? He was self-centered and arrogant, possessive and belittling. She wanted nothing more to do with him.

She refused to talk after that. She knew that if she said just one more word it would unleash a vitriolic tirade of epic proportions. The need to share a vehicle with the three of them back to town nearly made her physically ill.

At the appointed time the vehicle arrived and they climbed in. Catherine jumped in the passenger seat so she wouldn't be forced to sit beside any of the others. The poor driver tried to make conversation, but even he could sense the mood and eventually gave up and just concentrated on driving.

Back in town Catherine asked the driver to drop her at a car rental agency. Tom started to protest that she could drive with them back to New York. She politely declined.

Once all the formalities were taken care of, Catherine was handed the keys to the car and made a quick stop at a café she'd seen on the way into town. Her purchases secured on the back seat, she retraced the earlier journey that had brought her to town.

Driving back into the national park she was unexpectedly overcome with nerves. Would Vincent still be there? How would this all end? She knew she didn't want to lose him. He had such strength, such courage and was more real to her than anything else in her life. Just one brush of his hand or one glimpse of his eyes had the power to touch her at the deepest level. She had never felt so strongly drawn to anyone, a magnetic force – the laws of attraction were definitely in play where she and Vincent were concerned.

Catherine parked the car under a tree near several other vehicles, locked it and headed along the trail back into the park. On arrival at the spot where she had earlier left Vincent she stopped and looked around, uncertain how to proceed.

"Vincent," she called in a hushed whisper. "Where are you?"

After a moment she saw a dark, cloak clad figure enter the trail a little further up and trot toward her.

"Catherine, I'm here," Vincent replied in his husky voice. "We must hurry. There are men with guns close by."

As if to prove the point a bullet whizzed across the trail and hit a tree. Bark exploded and flew in all directions.

"They're mad, they shouldn't be shooting near marked trails," said Catherine.

"I'm afraid they may have seen me," he said. "Please, we must hurry."

Turning to run down the trail, Vincent took Catherine's hand to help her as he could see her ankle was still causing her concern. More bullets crossed the trail behind them. Vincent swept Catherine into his arms, mid-stride and ran on. A few minutes passed before they arrived at the car and Catherine scurried out of Vincent's arms to unlock the car, encouraging him inside.

She ran around the vehicle and climbed into the driver's seat and had the key in ignition, brake released and engine engaged in an instant. She turned the car for town and floored the accelerator. No one was taking Vincent from her.

They had driven out of the park and past the township when Vincent put his hand on top of Catherine's, where she gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white.

"It's all right, Catherine," he said quietly, "you can slow now."

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The adrenaline had worn off and she started to tremble so she pulled the car into an empty rest area and turned the engine off. For a moment she rested her forehead on the steering wheel, then lifted it and turned to Vincent.

"We did it!" She shook her head in wonder at their success and reached over to give him a hug. She could feel him kiss the top of her head.

"Thank you, Catherine, you risked so much."

"Vincent, your whole life is full of risk, what I did was nothing."

"To me—it was everything."

The sincerity in his voice brought tears of relief to her eyes and when their eyes met, she saw tears in his too. She couldn't imagine what he must be feeling after being trapped for so long in the wilderness, expecting no assistance from any quarter and separated from all he'd ever known.

"Vincent," she spoke through her tears, reassuring him. "You'll be home soon."

"It's like a dream," he revealed.

"It's no dream," she replied and reached into the back seat to retrieve the cup tray resting there. "Do dreams smell like coffee?"

"No dream I've ever had," Vincent conceded.

"I don't think it's completely cold, she said as she handed Vincent a cup. "Drink up. Enjoy!"

Catherine watched his face as they both drank their coffee. It was obvious he savored every sip. Next she handed him a full block of chocolate and encouraged him to follow her lead and dip some in the coffee for a true taste sensation.

"Ah, with coffee and chocolate, no bad fortune dare follow," he said, a smile edging around his eyes and into her heart.

Their snack consumed and feeling a little calmer, Catherine steered the vehicle onto the road to start the long drive back to New York. They stopped once for gas at a quiet self-service place and once to buy food for dinner. They ate in the car pulled off the road at a quiet spot. After their meal they climbed into the back seat to rest and Catherine promptly fell asleep with her head on Vincent's knee, as he gently stroked her hair.

An hour later they were on their way once more, taking their time so as not to draw undue attention. Finally, in the early dark of a cold November evening, surrounded by flurries of snow, they were welcomed back to New York by the twinkling lights of the city's skyscrapers.

It was a slow drive through the city and Vincent was excited to see it from this vantage point. Inside the car, tinted windows kept him safe from prying eyes.

"Catherine, where do you live?" He suddenly realized there were things he didn't know about her.

"On Central Park West. I have an apartment on the eighteenth floor of the Langham Building," she told him. "I hope you'll see it one day soon."

He was silent for a long moment. "I don't know if that would be wise."

"I left wise behind days ago," she told him, casting a glance in his direction. "I only know I don't want to lose you, Vincent."

Silence fell once more. The tension in the car was palpable. As the end of their journey neared Catherine turned the car into Central Park and followed Vincent's one word directions, "left," "right," until they arrived at a secluded spot where she parked. Central Park was not a place she would normally be on her own at night, but with Vincent beside her she knew no fear.

They climbed out of the car and walked for a while through the softy falling snow until they reached a grassy slope that lead down to a drainage tunnel.

"Where are we?" asked Catherine.

Vincent nodded toward the tunnel and took Catherine's hand shyly in his. "Home. Will you come with me?"

"Yes, I would love to." She squeezed his hand in reassurance and they started down the slope.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Vincent was anxious and nervous as they entered the tunnel and shook the snow from their clothes and hair. Over six months had passed. What would he find Below? Had there been many changes during his absence? How was Father? Would the children remember him? He escorted Catherine into a passageway and explained to her what he was doing when he opened a gate and activated a lever to open a steel door. They stepped inside and Vincent closed the gate and the door slid back in place with a clang. He'd forgotten that sound and how muffled it could be in the tunnels. Catherine's grip tightened in his and he looked down at her with concern.

"Please, don't be afraid," he said.

"I'm not afraid, Vincent, when I'm with you." She smiled up at him.

They walked further into the tunnel world, and Vincent gave Catherine insights into life Below as they walked along. After a while Vincent stopped and looked worried.

"What's wrong?" inquired Catherine.

"Something. I'm not sure," said Vincent. "It's too quiet; no one's talking on the pipes."

They hurried on. Vincent's concern grew as each new tunnel remained silent. Rounding the next bend they collided with someone, who tumbled to the floor and landed with a grunt. The man looked up as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Vincent." The little man cried out as he regained his feet and looked from Vincent to Catherine in disbelief.

"Pascal," cried Vincent. "It is wonderful to see you."

"Vincent," repeated Pascal as he shook his head. "We searched for so long. We thought you were dead."

"I may have ended up that way if Catherine hadn't rescued me," said Vincent. "Catherine, this is Pascal, the master of our pipe chamber."

"I'm pleased to meet you, Pascal." Catherine extended her hand and gave Pascal's hand a brief shake.

A wide-eyed Pascal turned back to Vincent and asked, "What happened?"

"It's a long story Pascal. Come with me to Father so I can tell it just once."

"Good idea."

"Pascal," asked Vincent, still concerned. "What's wrong? Why is it so quiet?"

"It's Winterfest tonight," Pascal informed him.

"Winterfest!" exclaimed Vincent. "That explains it."

"It has been so terrible without you, Vincent. Everyone has been so sad, so lost," explained Pascal. "Father decided Winterfest should proceed, to start to heal our community."

"So, everyone is in the Great Hall?"

"Yes. I just checked the pipes for the last time," said Pascal. "I'm headed down myself. I can't believe this, everyone will be overjoyed. It'll be the best Winterfest ever."

Vincent saw a range of emotions cross Pascal's face and finally tears welled in the little man's earnest eyes, as if Vincent's return had broken the dam of grief he'd welled inside for months. The two men moved together and hugged with such unashamed love and relief.

"It's so good to have you back." Pascal sniffed, pulling away to dry his eyes on his sleeve.

"It is wonderful to be back," confirmed Vincent, blinking away his own heartfelt tears.

"Come on," suggested Pascal. "Let's go down to the Great Hall."

Vincent took Catherine's hand again and, as they made their way deeper and further into the world Below, Vincent explained to Catherine the concept of "Winterfest." How and why it had started? How all their Helpers from Above were invited to celebrate each year, sharing food and drink, music and dancing. How it was bigger than Christmas to them as it crossed the boundaries of the religious holidays celebrated Above. It was truly their unique way to give thanks and cherish each and every person.

….

The three latecomers slipped into the darkness of the Great Hall. Pascal started to walk forward but was stopped by Vincent's hand upon his arm.

"A moment, please, Pascal," whispered Vincent.

Vincent rested back against the wall, momentarily overcome. He tried to calm his emotions. Catherine's hand still rested in his—a talisman, protecting him. His eyes met hers through the gloom and a moment of true understanding passed between them that filled Vincent with hope. In the dark, Father's voice commenced the opening ceremony. It sounded strong, yet sad in Vincent's ears.

"_The world above us is cold and gray; summer, a distant memory. Our world too has known its winters, so each year we begin this feast in darkness, as our world began in darkness."_

Father touched his candle to Mary's, Mary to Winslow's.

"_This world has sheltered many who have sought refuge from the city above. It was once a place of despair and dark places where men reached for knives and rocks and worse at the sound of other men's voices."_

Winslow lit Mouse's candle, then Mouse touched Jamie's in turn. At another table the children were lighting their candles also, a living tradition, supervised by Rebecca.

_"At last a few people learned to put aside their fear. And we began to trust each other, to help each other. Each of us grew stronger - those who took the help and those who gave it. One year, on the coldest night, a baby—Vincent—entered this world. His differences challenged us and helped to unite us into the family we are today."_

Jamie to Sebastian, to William, Brooke, Kanin, Olivia, Peter, on and on, the hall glowed with the light of a hundred candles.

"_Vincent—my son—is lost to us and this loss has been—unbearable. His voice was always the truest and Vincent would want us to remember that we are all part of one another: one family, one community. Sometimes we forget this, and so we meet here each year to give thanks to those who have helped us, and this year to celebrate the life of Vincent and to remember ..."_

Vincent stepped forward with Catherine into the circle of his family and completed the last line of the ceremony.

"… _Even the greatest darkness is nothing, so long as we share the light."_

For a moment there was a complete and stunned silence. Then the flickering chandeliers were hoisted aloft and the gathering erupted.

"Vincent ... here ... can't believe it … you're back ... thought you were dead ... good to see you ... missed you." Everyone spoke at once and encircled Vincent and Catherine. The crowd parted momentarily as Father drew near. He leaned heavily on his stick and tears streamed down his face.

He reached out to Vincent. "My son, my son," he cried. "I dreamed of this day, tried to believe it would happen."

Vincent let go of Catherine and the two men held each other with such shared joy and love. They drew back to look at each other and then hugged once more and wept unashamed tears of relief.

"It's been hard, Father," admitted Vincent, "but I'm home now."

Mary caught Vincent's eye and he pulled her in, to join the hug. They buried their heads together and cried and laughed at the same time.

For the next few minutes everyone was close as they all hugged him, touched him, reassured themselves that he was real—their Vincent, returned.

Vincent looked around to locate Catherine and was distressed to see she'd been pushed to the back of the group that had formed around him.

"Please, everyone, there is someone very special to me I want you to meet." He pushed through his family and friends and taking Catherine's hand, drew her forward. "This is Catherine," he introduced her. "I owe my life to her. She risked much to bring me home."

Father limped closer to Catherine. "Thank you my dear for what you have done." He reached out and took her hand in his. "How can we ever repay you?"

"There is no repayment necessary. Vincent saved my life first." Catherine gave Father's hand a firm shake.

"Cathy Chandler is that you?" A distinguished looking gentleman moved forward. The crowd parted for him and he caught Catherine up in a hug.

"Peter," cried Catherine, stunned to see her family friend Dr Peter Alcott in this unusual setting. "I don't believe it." They gave each other another hug.

Father looked across at his son, and a look of anguish entered his eyes. "What happened to you?"

Vincent lowered his head, took Catherine's hand in his for added strength and spoke. "That night I went Above—it seems a lifetime ago ..." he began. He told them of explosions and capture, of hurt and escape. He glossed over months of hardship and despair until the day that hope returned, the day he met Catherine and how it led to freedom and home.

The gathering remained completely silent as Vincent told his story and when he'd finished they started to discuss amongst themselves all they had heard and how wonderful it was to have Vincent back home.

"Wherever you've been, you've not been eating enough," concluded William. "You're nothing but skin and bones."

"I must admit to craving your cooking, William," responded Vincent.

"Would you like to eat first, Vincent," asked Mary, ever the caregiver, "or would Catherine and you like a bath and a change of clothes."

"Thank you Mary," said Vincent. "I am hungry, but clean clothes would make the food taste even better."

"Please, everyone, we won't be long, but don't wait," said Vincent, and then to Catherine. "Would you like to freshen up?"

"That sounds wonderful."

Mary accompanied Vincent and Catherine to the level of the accommodation chambers and leaving Vincent at his chamber escorted Catherine to a guest room and helped her with clean clothing and a visit to the female bathing chamber.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Catherine's senses were reeling and her emotions were in overdrive. So much had happened in her life during the past week and the last twelve hours had catapulted her into another dimension entirely. She felt as though her old life was a lie and that all she'd found so recently was the truth, was real. Her old pursuits seemed trivial and meaningless by comparison.

These people, this world felt like coming home, and the way she felt drawn to Vincent was certainly not platonic. Every glance melted her heart, every touch clenched her core. A number of men had been in her life over the years but none had affected her in this manner. What did it mean? What could it mean?

Mary took her to a bathing area, where a warm pool naturally occurred in the rocks. There were candles set around it that suffused the room with a welcoming glow. Catherine would have loved to linger there and ease her many aches but not wishing to keep Vincent and Mary from Winterfest, she hastened her bath. Wrapped in towels she made her way to the guest chamber which was nearby and Mary helped her into a soft, warm, cream colored dress and followed it with an intricate lace overdress. The ensemble was drawn in with a long purple sash which wound around her waist a number of times before being tied. Her hair was swept up with a pin on each side and Mary had found some soft suede boots that fit.

"Thank you Mary," said Catherine once she was ready. "You've made me feel so welcome."

"My dear, you _are_ welcome," replied Mary with tears in her eyes. "You brought Vincent home to us and we can never repay you."

Mary put an arm around Catherine's shoulders and continued. "Now let's go along to Vincent's chamber and see if he's ready."

And so they walked in a companionable silence through the dim tunnels until they arrived at Vincent's chamber.

The vision that greeted Catherine took her breath away. Vincent, resplendent in a white dress shirt drawn tight with a leather belt, frilled ruffles draped around his neck and down his lapel. He also wore knee-length boots over camel colored pants. His freshly washed hair framed his face, a face that had already lost much of the strain she had witnessed there since meeting him. He was far too thin, but wore his clothes with such dignity and presence that he seemed larger than life.

Their eyes met and held as they each saw the other afresh. A look full of appreciation and something else …

"Catherine," rasped Vincent, as if he didn't trust his voice. "You look … beautiful."

"So do you," she responded, as she ravished him with her eyes.

"We should go," he said as he turned to reach for a fresh cloak and tried to hide the flush on his cheeks.

Vincent escorted Catherine and Mary, one on each arm to the Great Hall and applause erupted upon their entry.

The children came forward, took them each by the hand and ushered them to the head of the main table where two places had been set.

Catherine felt like she was in a fairytale. This magical place full of candles and love was a million miles from the offices and boardrooms she normally inhabited.

Father stood up to the right of Vincent. "Please, raise your glasses; I think a toast is in order." Everybody stood, leaving only Vincent and Catherine seated. "To Vincent, we have missed you sorely and are relieved beyond measure to have you back, and to Catherine for bringing him home."

The assemblage erupted, "To Vincent, to Catherine." Glasses clinked together, were held aloft then sipped. Gradually, everybody was seated once more.

"Let the meal begin," called Father.

On cue, platters full of food arrived at the tables. Meats and baked vegetables, pots of stew, a glorious abundance was placed before them.

"Eat up, Vincent," called William from the side of the table.

"William, you've outdone yourself this year," said Vincent. "You would not believe the nights I've spent dreaming about your cooking."

"Well, dig in, you look like you need some more meat on your bones," chuckled William.

"Thank you all for waiting," continued Vincent. "I have no words to express how wonderful it is to be home."

And so the merriment began. Catherine was amazed by the joy and fellowship being enjoyed by all, from the youngest toddler to the most senior of citizens. Music and dance followed the meal, groups formed around the room and friends chatted amiably, games of chess and checkers were underway and a magician entertained the children.

Catherine and Vincent were in conversation with Father and Peter. Father was insistent that Vincent must have a full check-up in the morning and Vincent was determined that the only medicine he needed was good food and his family around him.

"So, Peter," asked Vincent in an attempt to distract Father. "How is it you know Catherine?"

"Ah!" A look of glee entered Peter's eyes. "The first time I met Cathy she was stark naked."

"Yeah, in a hospital delivery room," Catherine finished his story. "Peter was my mother's doctor and has been a family friend ever since."

"Now you've taken all the fun out of my story." Peter pretended to look hurt but couldn't keep it going; he smiled indulgently at the woman he thought of as his "other daughter."

"How is Susan?" asked Catherine, referring to Peter's daughter.

"She's fine," he replied. "Busy with the new pharmaceutical business she and Richard have set up in Santa Fe and they're expecting their first child in a few months.

"Congratulations, Peter," said Father. "A grandchild, how wonderful for you."

Father gave Catherine and Vincent a thoughtful look at that point, frowning slightly. It made Catherine feel a little uncomfortable.

They excused themselves and Vincent introduced Catherine to so many people that she knew she wouldn't remember all their names. One she wouldn't forget, however, was "Mouse," an unusual name, and an unusual young man.

"Vincent's my best friend." Mouse informed her proudly. "We hang out."

"That sounds like fun," said Catherine, amused.

"Where you live?" asked Mouse as he bobbed about awaiting her reply.

"In the Langham Building on Central Park West," she supplied.

"Know that one." Mouse shifted from foot to foot like an excited rabbit and said to Vincent in a gleeful tone. "There's an entrance Below."

"Perhaps you can show me later," replied Vincent, looking thoughtful.

"Okay good, okay fine," replied Mouse, looking satisfied with himself.

Catherine turned to Vincent. "What did he mean, "there's an entrance Below"?"

"A number of older buildings around the city have access into the upper tunnels. They were used for maintenance in years gone by. Mostly they are sealed, but some are not and give us and our Helpers entry points into the world Above."

More people came and offered Vincent their good wishes and by evening's end he'd spoken to everyone in the room. Catherine thought he looked exhausted.

The closing ceremony commenced. A huge circle formed around the room and Catherine was momentarily alone in its center.

"Catherine," called Father as he reached out his hand. "You're a part of us now, a Helper—come, complete the circle."

Catherine moved gratefully to stand between Father and Vincent and took each by the hand. She smiled up through shimmering tears at Vincent and wondered where their journey would take them. She felt him give her hand a comforting squeeze.

The circle complete, Father began. "_The darkness almost engulfed us this year when Vincent disappeared … but our unity gave us courage and strength to go on. Vincent's return to us—tonight—is a blessing beyond comparison. As we part for another year, let us remember that darkness is only the absence of light … and all winters end_."

Together as one, all arms were raised heavenward and Catherine felt totally accepted into this wonderful community. One to the next they looked, all faces shone with happiness and from the far side of the group the man she'd been introduced to as Winslow cried out. "Three cheers for Vincent."

"Hip Hip—Hooray, hip hip—hooray, hip hip—hooray."

….

Catherine spent the night in the guest chamber and awoke comfortable but lonely in her bed. She missed waking to find herself in Vincent's arms, safe and warm and … wanted? She certainly "wanted" him, but suspected there were obstacles to be overcome before they could even begin to contemplate a happy life. She had yet to learn the ways of this wonderful, but isolated community. How did they view Vincent's differences? He obviously had no girlfriend, but was it by choice or by design? They were grateful to her for his return, but would they accept a deepening of their friendship?

There were so many questions to be answered on so many levels. What did she want to do? She knew she needed to leave her father's law firm and find her own direction. She knew there would be difficult times ahead regarding the whole "Tom" affair. She chuckled to herself over her choice of words. Tom wouldn't back off easily; he was a bulldog in more ways than one.

As much as it pained her to contemplate, she needed to return home and sort herself out before she was truly free to be with Vincent.

"Catherine, may I come in?" Vincent's called quietly from outside her chamber.

"Of course, come in," she replied, excited to see him again.

"I sensed that you were awake."

"That is a remarkable gift."

"I also felt that you are—despondent."

"I missed you this morning," admitted Catherine as she looked at him, her eyes full of longing.

"I missed you too, Catherine," he answered from his heart, then realized he shouldn't say such intimate things to her. Standing by the bed, he suddenly looked uncomfortable and attempted to hide his hands from view.

"Please—don't do that, Vincent," Catherine said, as she sadly shook her head. "Never hide yourself from me."

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. "This is my life, I am always—hiding."

"But not from your family, your friends," she stated.

"No, not from them."

"Then what am I, Vincent?"

"You are everything! Everything I want and everything that is impossible for me."

"Why is it impossible?" She felt angry at the unfairness of the situation.

"Because of who I am—what I am—and our worlds are too different."

"Vincent, we don't know what is possible. Will you promise me one thing?"

"Ask me, Catherine."

"Will you promise—that you will _dream_ that it is possible?"

"Yes, I will dream."

Catherine reached out and pulled Vincent down to sit on the edge of the bed beside her.

"I must return Above today, before my father starts to worry," she said.

"I know." A fist gripped his heart.

"I need time to sort my life out. I've decided to find another job, more meaningful work. You've helped me find the strength, Vincent, to make the changes I must."

"You were always strong, Catherine," he replied, his belief in her unshakeable.

….

Vincent guided Catherine through the maze of tunnels. After a late breakfast she'd said farewell to Father and Mary. Dressed once more in jeans, shirt and jacket she took her leave. Vincent walked slowly. He did not wish the journey to end and his heart was heavy at the thought of their imminent parting.

Eventually he led Catherine through a gap in a brick wall that led to an apparent dead end.

"Where are we?" She looked around, confused.

"The basement of your apartment building." He turned away, suddenly overwhelmed.

Vincent's emotions were raw. The thought of her leaving was breaking him and he had little personal experience involving matters of the heart.

Catherine turned to find Vincent had leaned back against the wall. She didn't have his empathic powers, nor did she need them to know what he was feeling right now.

This man was her future, of that she had no doubts. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He had thrown back his head as if in distress and she stood on her toes and pressed a soft kiss to the warm, vulnerable skin of his neck. Vincent ever so gently placed his palm on her back and pressed her to him—he had never felt so blessed, or so wretched.

"What can I say to you?" she implored, as she shared his agony at parting.

"Don't trouble yourself, Catherine." His voice sounded strained as he tried to give her a way out. "You must return to your world and you will—forget me."

"No, Vincent, I'll never forget you, you're part of me now. I'm coming back." She was suddenly filled with the agony of doubt. "If—you want me. Do you—want me, Vincent?"

"Yes—but it is not that simple." He pulled her nearer.

"I know, but remember your promise." She looked up earnestly into his eyes.

"I will remember, Catherine—to dream."

"It will be our dream, Vincent," she declared, as she reached her arms around his neck and pulled him down.

Their lips met in a kiss filled with sweet promise for the future and bound their hearts for eternity. Catherine reluctantly separated from Vincent and walked toward the ladder. She turned back to wave once and then disappeared into the light that streamed down from Above.

**The End**

_**Episode references**__: No Way Down, the Pilot Episode & Dead of Winter._

_"… the true food of the gods."- Dr. Bachot, 1662_

_**Robert Frost references**__: Acquainted with the Night & Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening._

_**Virgil reference**__:"Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance."_


End file.
